


Passion Pit

by Water_Nix



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Water_Nix/pseuds/Water_Nix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Ronan go on a date. Only Ronan maybe kinda forgot to mention that it was a date?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion Pit

"There's this abandoned drive-in—"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Adam says, cutting Ronan off. "I was there once when I was a kid. When it was still open." _When my parents still gave a shit_ , he doesn't say aloud.   
  
Ronan rubs a hand over his head. He hasn't shaved it in several days and it's stubbly and soft-looking. Adam has the mad temptation to run his fingertips through the new growth of hair to find out if it's as satiny as it appears. He shakes himself and tunes back in to whatever Ronan is saying. He seems agitated, like Adam cutting him off or knowing about the drive-in has rattled him somehow. Made him lose his train of thought.   
  
"Well, I dreamed this projector that doesn't need electricity and some reels of movies, and I thought maybe we could go up there since you have the night off for once."   
  
"That's a great idea. Did you call Blue? Gansey said he should be home after six—"  
  
Ronan is shaking his head. "Gansey and Blue are doing something with the psychics tonight." He waves a hand around as if that explains their upcoming activities. "They'll be there for hours."  
  
"Oh. So it's just us and Noah then?"  
  
Ronan's eyes go wide. "Noah, he's, uh..."  
  
Noah pops into the room. "Busy having an existential crisis."  
  
Ronan nods emphatically and Noah pops out again.   
  
"So it's just us."   
  
"Right. Just us." Ronan clears his throat. "I'll, uh... I'll pack up the stuff." Two long strides and he's out the door.   
  
*  
  
Ronan really thought of everything. There is food and blankets and ten different movies that range from bone-chilling to terrifying to vomit-inducing gore.   
  
"Couldn't you have dreamt up a comedy or something? Even an innocent action flick? These are all..."   
  
"This one's funny." Ronan grabs up something about zombies and hooks it into the old fashioned film projector.   
  
"Funny because I'll be retching a half hour in, or funny for me?"   
  
Ronan grins, wolfish, and reaches into his magic bag to unearth yet more snacks. "Both, if we're _both_ lucky."   
  
The movie doesn't make Adam want to vomit, but it doesn't make him laugh, either. It does, however, make Ronan laugh, loudly and off-kilter with his head thrown back. Seeing Ronan so carefree is worth every minute of bad dialogue and exploding zombies.   
  
"For the record," Adam says during a quiet moment, "you have horrible taste in both music and movies."   
  
"Whatever, you love my mixtapes. And you love this movie, admit it."  
  
"Your mixtapes are the bane of my existence, and I'm _tolerating_ this movie only because you seem to be enjoying it so much."   
  
"Want me to turn it off?" Ronan's face has gone serious, his dark eyebrows furrowed slightly in the centre.   
  
Adam shakes his head, and Ronan shrugs before he lies back on the checkered blanket he spread out over the grass. He shifts and squirms, arms under his head, head on the ground, sweater under his head. "Forgot the pillows," he mutters to himself.   
  
"Use me."   
  
Ronan's head jerks upwards. "Huh?"   
  
Adam pats his leg. "As a pillow."   
  
After a second of silent contemplation, Ronan inches back and rests his cheek against Adam's thigh. It's the lightest, gentlest of touches, and before one of the leading ladies in the movie shrieks in the face of a horde of zombies, Adam swears he hears Ronan sigh. He definitely feels him nuzzle in as he rearranges his body on the blanket.   
  
There is something in the night air—maybe it's the sweet scent of the earth beneath them, or the song of the crickets, or maybe it's Ronan himself, the warm, solid weight of him breathing deeply against Adam's body. Something must provoke this madness, because Adam gives in to his earlier fancy and skims his fingertips over Ronan's scalp.   
  
Ronan nuzzles in further, his hand reaching out to cup around Adam's knee. Adam takes this as permission, and touches Ronan more purposefully, stroking his scalp and running his fingers through the short, dark hair. It is as soft as it looks, he finds, silky and fine. He almost wishes Ronan would let it grow in just a little bit more. But Ronan with hair just wouldn't be Ronan.   
  
Ronan sighs again, and this time Adam is sure he hears it. It sounds like utter contentment. He smiles to himself and pops a milk dud into his mouth with his left hand. Ronan squeezes his kneecap.   
  
On the worn drive-in screen above, the hero and heroine share a passionate embrace before grabbing their shotguns, prepared to go out in a blaze of blood-splattered glory. Adam tunes them out and looks at the stars instead. It's a perfect night. It's almost as though Ronan dreamed that up for them, too.   
  
Adam toes at an empty box of candy. His favourite kind. They're all his favourite kinds. Everything Ronan brought, besides the movie selection. And when has Adam ever had time for movies, or discussed the ones he likes or dislikes?   
  
"Noah's day to day is an existential crisis," Adam says and runs his fingers down the side of Ronan's head and behind his ear.    
  
Ronan's body tenses. His hand loosens its grip on Adam's knee. "Yeah."  
  
"Is this a date? Because now that I think about it, it kinda seems like a date."   
  
Ronan tenses further, his head pulling away slightly from Adam's touch. "Would that be okay?"   
  
Adam watches Ronan for a moment, wishing for the gentle easiness of moments before. He lays the palm of his hand against Ronan's jaw. "Very okay," he says.   
  
He can feel the movement when Ronan swallows.   
  
"Then, I, uh, _yeah_. Then it is a date. Yeah."   
  
"Okay then. Can you pass the popcorn? So long as you don't mind popcorn breath. I'd hate it if that was a turn-off for you when you kiss me goodnight at my door later."  
  
"I'm kissing you goodnight am I, Parrish?"   
  
"You know you want to."   
  
Ronan is trying hard to hide his smile when he turns to hand over the tub of popcorn. "Dream big," he says, then puts his head back on Adam's thigh. "And keep rubbing me."   
  
"I always dream big," Adam tells him.   
  
"So do I."   
  
The words feel drenched with promise and Adam smiles as he runs lazy fingers across Ronan's shoulder and up the side of his neck.

 

 


End file.
